Chandelier
by holdyourhand
Summary: This is a joke, right? A fucking joke? Because there's no way Hotaru can just be…dead.
1. Chapter 1

Written for Shirei. Dedicated to Julia Cukier Siegler, who I hope is resting in peace.

**Chandelier**

* * *

><p>The first time I really, truly thought of Mikan Sakura as a human being, I think, was when Tobita Yuu asked me a question.<p>

_"What do you think of Mikan-chan, Hyuuga-san?"_

**美**

She stares at me calmly right now, with those strong, beautiful hazel eyes, and reaches out to take my hand. For once, hers are even whiter and colder than mine.

"I'm not scared."

I know it. How could you not, if you really _looked_ at her? Even with all her long, chestnut colored hair gone, and her body looking thin and frail as humanly possible, the straight arch in her back that holds as she rests against her pillow and the regal way she lifts her chin up shows what words can not explain.

Mikan Sakura is not scared of death.

But I am.

The monitor next to her bed continues to show her steady heart rate, not betraying the serenity of her poised face. Her lips are not stretched into one of her signature heart-warming smiles of bright, flashing teeth, or an angry pout whining for attention from the people around her, but are merely set into a curved 'M', waiting for yours truly to speak.

"What's the first thing you'll do when you're up there?"

She laughs. She does not giggle, nor snort, nor chuckle or guffaw, but _laughs_-a hearty emotion-filled sound that colors the white room with something more than stillness and sorrow. "Who says I'll be up there?" Her eyes shine with amusement, and she fingers the tassels of the thick shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders with the other hand that does not hold my own. "I've done plenty of bad things in my life, you know."

"All for me." I was the one who reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand. I was the one who begged her to stay, to brave the dark, bloody thorns surrounding me so I could have a chance at love. At happiness.

She wouldn't have exhausted her alices to the point of irreparable body debilitation if it weren't for my demand. She wouldn't be dying if it weren't for me.

Stupid, selfish me.

"Don't think like that." Her tone turns serious and her eyes droop down in conflict. "Don't blame yourself, Natsume. It's all thanks to you I'm not scared anymore."

"But," she muses, withdrawing her hand from my clasp and stretching out to lightly touch one of the many paper cranes hanging from the walls of her room. These paper cranes were made by the toiling hands of friends, loved ones, and all the people who have been blessed by this girl's radiance. A thousand paper cranes of blood, sweat, and tears were created and put to form for a single wish.

_A futile wish_, she had said, when first waking up enclosed in these very white walls. But still, she had smiled, finally seeing how much she meant to everyone else.

It's funny, really, how people don't realize their own worth until the very end.

"Natsume?" I blink, and turn my attention onto her face. The hazel color in her eyes change once more, turning darker in worry.

I didn't want her to ever look like that again.

"Sorry. Caught up in my own useless thoughts. What were you saying before?"

She frowns, clearly not believing me, but decides to avoid the topic. "I was saying how, if I were to go up to heaven, I'd probably greet Mommy and Daddy first."

Mommy and Daddy? Seriously?

Her innocence and childishness have always captivated me.

The knock on the door finally comes, and in walks the great medical prodigy, Subaru Imai himself, followed by his demon clone of a sister. He holds his plastic clipboard to the side, scrutinizing its contents. "How are you, Mikan?" he asks, checking off a few things on the medical forms in front of him.

If you were only an ordinary member of society, witnessing this particular scene unfold, you would have probably seen a nonchalant, experienced doctor casually asking his patient how they were doing. However, if you looked rather closely at the corners of his eyes, you would have noticed his pupils slightly dilated, shifting rapidly back and forth in anxiety as he took a couple of more steps forward.

"Tired," she replies truthfully, executing a loud, lazy yawn to only prove her point further.

Imai, the younger one, takes a step forward, the rims of her dark purple eyes red and ill-disguised. "You don't have to do this," she practically begs, reaching out to take her friend's shoulders. "You can wait. We can find a cure in a few months, I-"

"Please." Mikan reaches out to touch the other girl's face, carefully grasping it in a gentle embrace. "I'm tired, Hota-chan. I don't want to fight anymore. Stop pushing yourself for the impossible."

In response, Imai's face scrunches up into an entirely broken expression: eyebrows angled sharply inwards, mouth held in a tight line, eyes half-closed in absolute pain and sorrow. Her hands flail in open air, drowning in her despair as she clutches onto the one person she's been with forever. "I need you," she moans, tears fluidly sailing across her cheeks.

I do too, Imai.

But this is what _she_ needs.

"Are you ready?" Subaru pulls his sister away, spinning her towards my other side. It's not that he's being cruel and inconsiderate, but he knows, as I know, that the longer the two spend together, the more the best friends will end up hurting.

"I…I think so." Her confident expression falters and she starts to tremble faintly. I scoot my stool closer to her and hold both her hands in mine once again. "It won't hurt, will it?" she whispers, staring frantically into the doctor's eyes.

He shakes his head. "Quick and painless. Like falling asleep."

"I wish people would stop saying that," she sighed, forehead creasing slightly in frustration. "Death isn't like sleep. We're all bound to be touched by death at least once in our lives; the least we can do is to acknowledge the difference. I don't want anybody to say that I'm _sleeping_ at my funeral. I'll be dead. Plain dead."

"You're rambling again," I say, reaching over to brush an eyelash off her face.

"That's because it's time to go. I hate goodbyes."

My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to. "You chose this ending."

Her face crumbles in pain. "I know," she says quietly.

Immediately, I feel awful. What am I doing in her last moments of life? "It'll be fine," I whisper. "You're Sakura Mikan. You can do anything."

You turned me into a human being.

"But I can't beat death."

The door closes, signaling that the siblings have slipped out to leave us two alone. They're probably expecting us to have one last 'passionate exchange' before she slips under.

It's passionate all right, but it's a different kind of passion. Instead of lust and kisses all over, merely staying by each other's side at till the last moment stirs and moves my heart.

How am I supposed to survive without this girl? What will I even _do_ once she's gone?

"Natsume." Her voice causes me to stiffen and slowly look up from my musings. It's a strained, weak sound, coming from the red expression of someone about to burst into tears. "Natsume, I'm not scared but-"

I hold out my arms and she flies over. Finally, her serene mask shatters and the Mikan Sakura I first met and fell in love with is back for a single, precious moment. Tears flood her cheeks and drops one after another onto the white sheets, staining them with random dots of gray.

It takes all my pride, and the reminder that Mikan would only hurt more, not to cry along with her.

"I'm not scared of death," she sobs. "But I wish I had more time with everyone else."

**美**

_"What do you think of Mikan-chan, Hyuuga-san?"_

_ I think for a moment. This is the first time I've actually given any deep thought of the brat other than trying to guess the color and pattern of her panties. Maybe I should really make this opinion count._

_ "A chandelier," I finally declare, thrusting my hands into my pocket. _

_ Inchou's expression furls into one of confusion. "How-?"_

_ "A chandelier," I call out, as I begin walking down the hallway to class, "hangs steadfastly from the wall, bringing joy by being beautiful and bright."_

_ "But eventually, they'll sway, buckle, and crash to the ground."_

_ "Everyone will miss that chandelier, but they'll always appreciate its splendor."_


	2. Chapter 2

Chris Robinson, tenth grader, died last week from his leukemia.

This chapter is dedicated to him.

Please read. And think of a boy whose life was too short.

**Chandelier**

* * *

><p>How many days has it been since she took in her last breath?<p>

Too many, it seems, for me.

美

Yuu stands on the podium, in front of everyone, going through the entourage of announcements we always hear during every all-school assembly. Others might think this meeting is no different from others, that nothing has changed from the one before.

But I know, and the whole class 2-B knows, that something has changed in the manner of the announcements today. A solemn tone flows through Yuu's usually pitchy voice, and our class all wait for another special word from Shiki-san, the middle school principal himself.

I know what's coming. I don't want to hear it. Because it will make this all too real.

"…and now an announcement from Shiki-san."

Everyone claps politely as our middle school principal takes center stage, calm and poised as ever. Murmurs start as we all notice his new choice of dress. Rather than his usual snappy t-shirt and jeans, he has opted to wear a formal, all black ensemble, minus his white dress shirt and wine red tie. Some girls have the nerve to squeal under their breaths, "He is just _so_ hot!"

Shut up.

"I could _eat_ him, you know."

Shut up! This isn't the time to be pining over a man almost twenty years our senior!

"Good morning, everyone," he starts, fidgeting with his tie. Obviously, he isn't used to wearing such a collar. "Today, I'm afraid I have to deliver some sad news to you all. You see…"

No. Please stop. Don't make me go through this again.

I remember in this single second, in the space of his breath between the next, the moment where my own brother emerges from the hospital room with his hands held behind his back, dark indigo eyes avoiding the direct gaze of my own. "Hotaru," he whispers, coming over to my side and crouching down besides the chair I'm currently frozen too. "Hotaru, I'm sorry. She's-"

"Mikan Sakura is no longer with us in this world."

My body stiffens, building a protective layer of numbness to try to block the onslaught of words that comes next. Half of me wishes to hear the words he speaks, the words that inform me that he too has suffered from her absence.

Half of me wishes to scream and cry and pound my way through the others, hit him on the chest and wail in rage and fury and grief, "What's your loss compared to mine?!"

"Mikan was suffering through cancer, and had to experience numerous sessions of painful chemotherapy. She couldn't come to school often, and ended up repeating a grade because of all her absences. Yet every time I saw her, she was _always smiling_."

Why remind us of her smile? Yes, that beautiful spark of human goodwill and brightness which couldn't help but bring a small ray of light onto your face as well. Why remind us of something we will never see again in this world?

"It must have been hard for her. Her parents had left the world prior her, but at least with her companions and classmates, she wasn't alone. It was hard for her friends and those who stood by her to watch the transformation of their loved one from the process of treatment. But Mikan Sakura was happy, despite all these things, and left this world knowing she was departing to a better place."

What the hell was wrong with this world as it is? Why couldn't she have stayed here for longer?

Her friends are here. Natsume's here.

_I'm_ here.

"Let us all hold a moment of silence in honor of Mikan."

The tears have already slipped through the corner of my eyes and are silently sailing down my white cheek. I close my lids to block their exit and clasp my hands together.

_God…it's true. I've been a bit skeptical of you from before. _

_ But please, if but for a pure heart's sake, let Mikan be happy in paradise. _

In this small moment of prayer, only one person dares to break the solemn silence. A fist clenches my heart tightly, fueling the single, burning fire of rage inside of me. How _dare_ they? I turn my head a quarter turn to the left, ready to tell off this rude offender with the usual Hotaru Imai venom, until I see the face of Nobara Ibaragi.

Her blue bangs are frizzier than ever, hanging in front of her face like a tangle of seaweed, trying in vain to cover her reddening eyes. Head on her hands, she sobs, attempting to stifle her cries by biting hard on her lip. Someone in the next seat, Shouda, pats her sympathetically on the shoulder, her own expression crumpled into a pained face.

Those of us who knew her, are all hurting. Some can't help but show our pain.

"Assembly…is now dismissed." Yuu has returned, voice cracking slightly at his last statement. People now stand up, slowly making their way towards the exits.

Outside, Ruka jogs over to my side, his blonde hair practically blinding in contrast to his midnight black suit. "We have to hurry to the funeral," he whispers, quietly slipping his hand into my own.

I nod without fuss. We start to walk over to the car surely parked outside of the academy gates until a horrible, arrogant voice rings in the air and interrupts our hurry.

"Well, _that_ was depressing! Why the fuck would he announce that?"

"Come on Ta-chan. Someone of our community just died! We should pay our respects quietly."

"That stupid principal just ruined my whole day now. I wish I'd never heard of the name Mikan Sakura."

I struggle to breathe.

"Let's go, Hotaru." Ruka squeezes my shoulder and glares in the other direction. "Those kind of people will never be able to understand the feelings of the mourning until it's too late."

美

"Thank you."

I break my eyes away from her altar to find her uncle staring sadly at me. "Thank you for being a good friend to her."

A lump forms in my throat. I merely nod, afraid to say anything more.

The high school principal crouches beside me as others mill silently around the cemetery, sharing their stories and tales of the girl who sits underneath my very feet. "She said," he started, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, fingering the cellophane. "She said you were her best friend."

"She was mine too," I reply. I continue to watch the burning incense as the smoke furls and floats up through the air.

He finally rips the wrapper open and flicks his thumb for the carton to open. "She didn't worry about Natsume."

I finally look at him, befuddled. He continues to speak, twiddling a cigarette between his index and middle finger, still unlighted. "While she was wondering of, you know, the afterlife, she was always worrying. I thought her last words to me would be frightened, beseeching. Instead, she asked me…to take care of you."

"That idiot."

"I agree." He smiles faintly, wistfulness apparent at the edge of his eyes. "She was always worrying about others before herself, wasn't she?"

"She should have worried about her own ass."

He doesn't flinch at my choice of words. "Maybe. But that care was what made her Mikan."

I fold my arms around my legs, cradling myself as I can no longer maintain the coldness struggling to remain numb in my chest. The frost cracks and shatters, letting my heart break so it can heal. My shoulders shake, up and down, back and forth, as I rock side by side on the cold ground.

Her altar, her headstone, seems so drab and grey.

"I don't want to leave her here," I sob. Her uncle does not remove himself to comfort me. He knows, as well as I do, that I must come to terms with my feelings by myself. "I don't want to leave her all alone."

"She won't be alone," he comments gently. "Her body might be here, but her soul is with her parents."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. She's dead, and I won't be able to see her until I die. And even then, I may not end up in the same place as her." I wipe my eyes furiously, trying to ignore the growing, bubbling anxiety and anger inside of my stomach. "I wish death didn't exist. I wish it didn't take away our precious ones!"

"But that's life. For every thing we take, we will eventually have to give back. And that's the truth we have to live with."

He stays silent for a while as I continue to drip violent tears onto my dress. It's the dress I had spent the whole of last night trying to salvage from the depths of my closet, just for her. For her funeral.

For my goodbye.

Suddenly, he takes the pack of cigarettes in his hand and throws it with all his might, over to the trash can a whole ten meters away. It successfully hits the rim of the bin, and bounds forwards into the depths of the garbage. "Then as long as we live our lives," he says, getting up from the ground and stretching his arms, "let us not waste our precious years and hours. Let us live life deeply and fruitfully, for the sake of others."

"Just like our Mikan did."

He begins to walk away from her grave, and then stops. His back faces me, lean but strong, burning the humble image of a brother, uncle, and protector into my mind. "She would have liked your dress," he calls out to me. "She wasn't fond of black."

My dress is white.

White for snow.

White for purity.

White for Mikan.

美


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry there's another addition to _Chandelier_. I truly am. Because if you've been reading the descriptions for each chapter, you'll know they are written for the unfortunate deaths of members of my school community who died too young. Death has struck again.

His name was Justin Carr. I regret I didn't talk that much with him this year, but I remember talking to him in middle school. I remember him being loud, boisterous, and ridiculously sassy and funny. I just saw him two days ago, talking to a friend, laughing over something, and I thought flippantly at the time that it was nice he was always laughing and smiling. The world needs more people like that. So it's really hard to fathom he's gone. Please rest in peace.

* * *

><p><em>*bzzt*<em>

Koko grumbled underneath his breath and rolled over onto his stomach. "Go away," he mumbled into his pillow.

_*bzzt* *bzzt*_

"Argh!" Koko groaned and sat up from his afternoon nap. He pushed his disheveled hair before fishing his phone out of his back pocket. "Whoever's interrupting my Friday nap better have something important to say, or I'll spill all their secrets on Monday," he grumbled underneath his breath.

Three text messages from Sumire. Wow, he felt like it was Christmas. Sumire usually didn't even acknowledge his existence, let alone give him the time of day. He grinned and unlocked his phone to read what she sent.

_Koko, have you been on Facebook? Everyone's posting statuses saying 'Hotaru, RIP'. Is it true? _

_Koko, I'm scared. I don't know what's going on. Geez, you're the mind reader. Help me out here!_

_Is this really happening? After Mikan? _

His heart sank. These messages were far from what he was expecting.

Koko almost slipped rushing to his computer. He shook the mouse violently to wake the monitor up and opened his internet browser as soon as the screen brightened. A couple of clicks, and there it was. His news feed on the most popular social networking site of all time, littered with statuses and pictures tagging the Hotaru Imai. All saying she was a great person, how she would be missed. All claiming she was dead.

_This is a joke, right? A fucking joke? Because there's no way Hotaru can just be…dead._

There were over a hundred people online and rising, no doubt buzzing about the latest tragedy, but Koko was only looking for one. He typed Ruka Nogi in the search bar and impatiently shot him a message.

**KY: **_Hey, dude. Sorry if this comes off as insensitive, but the hell with all the Facebook crap saying Imai's dead? This isn't real, right?_

He tapped his feet nervously against his chair and bit his lip in anxiety. Until he heard from the boyfriend himself, Koko was not going to accept what was obviously the impossible.

A few agonizing minutes later, Koko got a response.

**RN: **_I'm sorry, Koko. It's true. She's gone. _

All the nerves in Koko's body seemed to just slacken. He lay limply across his chair, staring at the words glaring a hard black against the soft white of the screen.

**KY: **_How? What happened?_

**RN: **_She was experimenting with chemicals again. Something went wrong and she couldn't breathe. I tried giving her CPR but it wasn't working and the ambulance arrived and I had to sit there in the waiting room and_

**RN: **_Fuck. _

**RN: **_I can't really talk right now, Koko. Sorry._

**KY: **_I know. _

He logged off and stood up slowly. He surveyed his room, colored a lazy orange by the sun setting just outside his window. It was cluttered with empty pizza boxes, candy wrappers, manga, and video games. Although dirty, it looked inhabited and ready for more good days of getting stomped on and battered by living feet.

But that wasn't the same for Hotaru's room, Koko realized as he returned to bed and flopped onto the blanket covers. Her room's white and black walls, so like her straightforward tendencies, were going to become discolored by the age of time, and all her prized possessions-photographs, awards, inventions-were going to gather dust and remain useless in the hands of no one. She wasn't going to come back.

His phone vibrated in his pocket once more, incessantly this time since someone was calling. He didn't even bother to check the caller ID as he brought it up to his ear and listlessly said, "What."

His lackluster greeting was responded with a barrage of chokes and sobs. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain twisting his stomach into knots. "Sumire, calm down. Breathe."

"_I-I can't."_

"Yes you can, Sumire. Breathe while I count to five, hold your breath for two, and then exhale for seven. Ready? One, two, three, four-"

He heard her breathing shakily, but surely, and continued the counting process until her sobs had receded to hiccups. "I'm sorry," he simply said, staring at the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Sumire."

"_Why? It's not like you killed her or anything."_

"I'm sorry we both have to go through this." He clenched the hand at his side until he could feel the skin stretching over his knuckles start to burn. "This is just fucked up. It was Mikan last year, and now we don't have Hotaru anymore. Fuck!"

"_Do you think…do you think maybe Hotaru killed herself on purpose?"_

"No!" His voice rang loud and clear across his flat. "Definitely not!"

"_I was only asking because-"_

"Yeah, I know. Mikan's death hit Hotaru the hardest. Of course it did, they were best friends and Hotaru loved Mikan more than anyone could even begin to fathom. But Hotaru was strong, Sumire. She knew how to 'keep calm and carry on', just like the old Brits. Whatever killed her was a complete accident. And Nogi was by her side. Do you really think Hotaru would have been heartless enough to let her boyfriend witness her death on purpose?"

He hated referring to her with past tense. He abhorred grammar more than ever.

"_I'm just grabbing for straws here!"_ Koko could sense the bitterness of her voice before he heard it. _"I don't understand why she's dead, why she's gone! I just saw her this morning, Koko, and she showed me one of those really rare smiles, the tiny but super pretty one. I was telling her she should smile more often so she didn't resemble an ice queen as much and she told me I should straighten my hair so I wouldn't look like a patch of seaweed and I just can't! I can't accept she's gone because of a stupid, silly accident! Why did she have to die?"_

"I don't know." Koko heard Sumire begin to sob again, and even he couldn't suppress a strangled choke as he spoke his next words. "I don't think anyone knows."

* * *

><p>It's going to be very hard to go to school on Monday. It'll be heartbreaking and painful to find out the exact circumstances of his death, to have to listen to more precious stories and memories about Justin. But in coming together and mourning as a family, I hope my school will carry on with the beauty of Justin living in our hearts forever.<p>

Please pray for these kids. Remember their stories and please don't think life isn't worth living. There will be a better tomorrow. There will always be better tomorrows if you just look past all your worries and focus on the future rather than the problems plaguing you in the now. Think of Julia and Chris and now Justin and remember how short their lives were because of unfortunate circumstances, and please know you are lucky and blessed and have all the opportunities in the world at your fingertips. If you only just _stay strong_.

Love.


End file.
